


For Entertainment Purposes

by BeAVixen



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Actor Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Is Older Than Steve, Childhood Friends, Dialogue Heavy, Female!Izzy, Fluff, Host Bucky Barnes, Kinda, M/M, Meet-Cute, Meta, No disrespect to Nick Fury's Howling Commandos, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, So that Izzy/Darcy can prosper, Sort Of, YouTube, Youtuber Bucky Barnes, alternating povs, bc i do what i want, ish, tags will be added as we go along, this is honestly insane i don't know how this idea came in my head, will the ratings change? stay tuned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeAVixen/pseuds/BeAVixen
Summary: With Steve Rogers’ new movie, Captain America: Civil War only a week away, the premiere looming over him like a weighted blanket, he must attend what he hates the most: press interviews.They have the potential to be entertaining. Meeting up with his friends and the other cast members is nice. Seeing and interacting with fans is the best part of it.It’s the early rise, the hours and hours of the same questions and not being able to say much because you can’t risk spoiling anything, and the constant edginess of press tours that Steve hates. It’s redundant, repetitive. It’s exhausting.It’s exhausting, but today, he’s not too mad about it. He’s not too mad about the few hours he has of press, because after his lunch break, he gets to do something he’s been waiting for an invite for, for the longest time.First We Feast Presents: Hot Ones, with Bucky Barnes.OR:Steve Rogers is a money-making, succesful movie actor.Bucky Barnes hosts Hot Ones on YouTube.A lot of reconnecting ensues.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 18
Kudos: 68





	1. prologue, or something like that

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I don't... I cannot explain this.
> 
> This idea quite LITERALLY came to me out of nowhere and I just-- I had to put it on paper. It had to be done.
> 
> Also I'm OBSESSED with Hot Ones w/ Sean Evans and I am simply counting down the days until he has Sebastian or Chris on the show.
> 
> This is the only chapter I have written, but I have ideas for the whole story, so let me know what you think!! I have no clue if I should keep it going but I think it has the potential to be really cute and really fuckin hilarious? Maybe? Anyways. 
> 
> No beta, so all mistakes are mine! If any mistakes are glaring at you let me know and I'll fix them.
> 
> Enjoy!!

The thundering cheers and claps from the various amounts of fans outside the vehicle reverberate into the car that Steve is currently sitting in, on his way to the Los Angeles Convention Center. He waves and hopes the fans can see him through the tinted glass of the car windows, his driver going significantly slower to make sure no one gets hurt. At some point, Steve dips the window down slightly, sticking his hand out to wave properly, causing an eruption of cheers to echo into the vehicle. They follow him all the way to the center, only being greeted by another few hundred people when the car pulls up at the center.

With Steve Rogers’ new movie, _Captain America: Civil War_ only a week away, the premiere looming over him like a weighted blanket, he must attend what he hates the most: press interviews.

Steve doesn’t ever take his fame for granted; growing up in the small corners of Brooklyn with his widowed mother, five feet tall if he was lucky and lungs that constantly worked against his favor, he didn’t think he’d be where he’s at now. Knowing from a young age that school was not his thing, and that he didn’t see himself following the nursing footsteps of his mother, he turned to the theatre community, peaking once he hit high school. Regardless of the fact that people made fun of him for it, he is what kickstarted the students’ love for theatre. He is the reason his History teacher took a leap, accepting to be the main leader of the theatre group. With all their hard work, they were able to take their performances to regionals, and then eventually, to nationals. Steve’s school was suddenly highly recognized for their talented theatre students.

Specifically, Steve was highly recognized.

He began acting professionally from a decently young age; the minute he graduated, when he was eighteen, he already had scholarships lined up for prestigious acting schools, Julliard and the America Conservatory Theater being two of the greatest acting schools at the time. However, he settled with the Lee Strasberg Theatre & Film Institute. He was close to his mother, whose health was dwindling by the day, and he wasn’t carrying the immense pressure that would’ve been on his shoulders had he gone with Julliard.

A sudden growth spurt, a funeral and four years later, Steve was scoring roles in movies; cheesy, goofy movies that probably weren’t getting much traction, but just enough to gain him exposure.

That’s why when he was asked to audition for the role of Captain America, there was almost no hesitation. Marvel was a huge franchise, with their comics and whatnot, and Steve had seen _Iron Man_ in theatres and had been absolutely mind blown. He only wished that he’d be able to take part in something so great. He knew it would be a commitment, something that could become big, that could take over the world.

And that, it did.

_Civil War_ is the thirteenth blockbuster from the ongoing Marvel Cinematic Universe, and Steve only has them to thank for his successes. He went from being a small F-List actor, just looking to do what he loved, to becoming one of the most famous celebrities of present day. Not that he minded. The fame was a lot, having everyone watch your every move, analyze everything you do, but Steve always knew that he could go home when he needed some humbling, or when it became too much for him to handle. He knew that his mother would be proud of him for everything he’s accomplished. He worked hard to get where he’s at, so he refuses to take any of it for granted. This opportunity doesn’t come for everyone, so he’s fortunate to be one of them.

But _goddammit_ , press tours suck.

They have the potential to be entertaining. It is fun to have the cast back together to promote their movie; he hasn’t seen some of his closest friends Sam, Natasha and Clint in months due to scheduling conflicts, so meeting up with them and the other cast members is nice. Seeing and interacting with fans is the best part of it.

It’s the early rise, the hours and hours of the same questions and not being able to say much because you can’t risk spoiling anything, and the constant edginess of press tours that Steve hates. It’s redundant, repetitive. It’s exhausting.

It’s exhausting, but today, he’s not too mad about it. He’s not too mad about the few hours he has of press, because after his lunch break, he gets to do something he’s been waiting for an invite for, for the longest time.

_First We Feast Presents: Hot Ones, with Bucky Barnes._

Here’s the thing… here’s the _thing_ about _Hot Ones_. It’s hilarious, and so authentic, and so easy to watch; it’s not stilted, awkward, rehearsed conversations, it’s actual quality, it makes you want to _watch_ the interview. It’s fun, because you get to eat spicy wings (and Steve _loves_ wings), and the questions are actual, well researched, good questions that Steve can answer, things that make Steve actually have to think. He’s been watching various costars and other different celebrities since the show began, and he’s only been waiting for his agent to contact him and let him know he had finally gotten an invite.

Steve, however, had a bit more of a reason to love _Hot Ones_ , and this was due to their wonderful host, Bucky Barnes.

Steve remembered Bucky. He was a year below Steve, but everyone in his high school knew of him; knew of his wit, his charisma, his humor, his _charm_. Steve can’t lie, Bucky may have been the reason why Steve realized that he was attracted to men just as much as he was attracted to women.

Bucky had always been what people categorized as a class clown, always making people laugh, cracking jokes. He was so polite, so nice to everyone, just a gentle, beautiful soul walking around in just as beautiful of a body. He was the type that didn’t let bullies get away with anything, especially towards Steve.

They hadn’t been friends, nothing more than acquaintances; in fact, they hardly knew each other, but they walked the same trail on the way home. Initially, Steve would always be out a little earlier, Bucky lingering on school grounds to talk to his buddies. Steve had gotten into a tussle with his usual intimidators and had taken a few hits to the face when a very angry and deep voice had interrupted his beating, as the bullies scrambled. Bucky had held out his hand, helping Steve up, and had walked him home. After that day, the minute Steve would hit the trail on his way home, Bucky was running up behind him to catch up. They didn’t talk much on their walks, but Steve had felt a calmness that he hadn’t felt with anyone else. Bucky was always gentle with him, always respected him and treated him like anyone else. It made Steve feel loved; made him feel like some people did actually care about his feelings.

When Steve performed his last play before graduating, Bucky had been there. He hadn’t been there for Steve, as far as Steve was concerned, especially when most of Bucky’s friends were also in Theatre, but when the play was over and dessert was being served in the lobby, Bucky had approached him, congratulating him on his wonderful performance.

“You’re going to take over the world, Steve,” Bucky had grinned, making Steve’s cheeks redden with the compliment.

“Ah, thanks man, but says you. With all that charisma, I see you as one of those amazing late-night show hosts I watch every night.” Bucky’s eyes had twinkled, a larger grin spreading on his face. Steve couldn’t help but get lost in his mesmerizing eyes.

“Imagine that,” Bucky had chuckled, patting Steve’s shoulder. “An actor and a talk show host. May our paths cross in the future, Steve Rogers.”

Before Steve had replied, Bucky had been dragged away by his group of friends. The words had stuck with him past graduation into his first year of university, hoping, _wishing_ , that maybe Bucky was right, that maybe one day, their paths would cross again. It slowly faded into a thought in the far back of his mind, but a thought that was there, nonetheless. With a focus on himself and his own successes, he left high school and all of its events behind. That was, until he was scrolling through YouTube for something to watch and stumbled upon a video on his Recommended list, a face he didn’t fully recognize, due to the fact that Bucky had aged multiple years, but that name; it was too unique. Who else in the world was called Bucky Barnes?

He watched that video. Then, he clicked on the channel and watched another. And another. And the next. By the time he had caught up on all the videos, he was so giddy and there were tears in his eyes because it may not be a talk-show, but it was _something_ , and it was so _Bucky_ , that Steve couldn’t have wished for Bucky anything else.

From that point on, he begged. A new TV show on the rise? Contact _First We Feast_. A new movie premiering soon? Contact _First We Feast_. Need more Steve Rogers content? Contact _First We Feast_. Years, Steve begged his agent to get him on the show. Years that Bucky’s schedules remained so ridiculously overbooked that they couldn’t fit Steve anywhere, no matter how much they said they tried.

Until today.

He was finally going to go on his favorite YouTube show, finally reunite with the young man who walked him home from school every day to make sure he wouldn’t get his ass beat, the man who wished him the best, who told him he was going to take over the world. Steve wanted to tell Bucky out loud that he did it. He took over the world.

With a deep breath, he exits the car, waving to his fans apologetically as his bodyguard rushes him into the building. He quickly stores a mental reminder to sign autographs and take photos with fans on his way out, once he wouldn’t be time restrained.

_Four hours_ , he tells himself. _Four hours, and then you get to see Bucky Barnes again._

+++

Bucky had always been somewhat of a clown.

It wasn’t a bad thing; it made his sisters laugh, though it really irritated his parents. Growing up in Brooklyn was boring and monotone, and he definitely brought the entertainment around with him. Everyone seemed to like him and get along with him well enough, but Bucky only trusted a handful of friends, who clearly cared more about Bucky than just what they saw on the surface.

He had initially wanted to pursue Sciences, in hopes of becoming a psychiatrist like his father. The interest was still there as he grew up, but he remained fascinated by the famous life, wanting to see the growth and development of celebrities, wanted to know what it was like, what that life was like.

He quickly changed his mind in high school, gaining more of a focus on Media Studies and Arts. He had an internship lined up for him right out of high school and took it with open arms. He got to explore what the media was like, what the press was like, how celebrities behaved based on the questions being asked, who they were asked by, how to look open, how to make sure you’re charismatic, funny, charming. Bucky already had the traits, as he’d been told. He just needed to apply them.

After a few years, he ended up working for _Complex Media._ Five years in, he threw down the _First We Feast_ idea with Gabe Jones, his best friend and coworker, to their bosses. The idea was hilarious and different, something that hadn’t been seen before.

It had become a hit. Before Bucky knew it, everything he had hoped for and then some, was occurring right in front of his very eyes. He was doing what he loved, and he was having fun doing it. He was making bank, too. The exposure that _Complex_ had received from _First We Feast_ was rocket high. He was no Josh Horowitz, but he was almost there.

This is how James Buchanan Barnes, young boy from Brooklyn, ends up in Los Angeles, frowning at the GPS of his rented vehicle to head to the Los Angeles Convention Center for another episode of _Hot Ones_.

“Holy fuck,” Bucky mutters, his eyebrows to his hairline as he drives by the Los Angeles Convention Centre to circle around the back and reach the indoor garage. The crowd standing outside is massive, all happy smiles, nervous hands, assorted posters, cheering for the arrival of their favorite actors, or directors. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the crowd, seeing how many people were out to support their favorite people. To support Steve Rogers.

Bucky gulps, turning the corner to head to the parking lot.

Was he nervous? He was definitely nervous. Five seasons, _five seasons_ of eating spicy wings until his tongue went numb and meeting different actors, singers, performers, getting to learn more about each and every one of these people and their lives outside of just the fame and the job. So many faces, _rich_ faces, and he had managed to keep his cool, keep up his charming, charismatic attitude, never nervous, always prepared.

Today, though, he’s fucking _nervous_. He hates just how absolutely fucking wrecked he is.

After fifteen years, _fifteen_ , without a single sight other than watching him onscreen, he was finally going to meet him again; his high school crush, potentially the only man he came close to falling in love with. Steve Rogers.

Bucky had been obvious in high school. He didn’t understand how Steve hadn’t seen the longing looks Bucky passed him in the hallways, or the way he always walked him home every day. He didn’t miss the groans that would circulate his lunch table when he would bring up Steve’s name for the hundredth time that day.

He went to Steve’s last play and cried. Not because of Steve’s performance, which was _impeccable_ , but because he knew that raw talent was going to get Steve somewhere, knew with absolute certainty that Steve was going to get the recognition he deserved. He wished he could see Steve obtain that recognition by his side, but the world just didn’t work with him that way, so he settled for a congratulations. He hadn’t expected Steve to say he saw Bucky becoming successful, and he knew he could’ve kissed that stupid, cute face of his then and there, but he didn’t. Because he’s a cowarding coward who cowards, or whatever.

It’s not like they had been friends; at best, they had been mere acquaintances, but Bucky had wished for more. He had wished for so much more.

Bucky didn’t directly handle actor booking, but he was aware of who was getting booked and when so that he could do his research. Every week, he hoped Gabe would say Steve’s name. Every week, hoping that maybe he would finally get that moment he’s been waiting for, that moment he told Steve would one day happen. _May our paths cross in the future, Steve Rogers._ He prayed and wished and prayed some more, only to be disappointed every time. He almost forgot about it.

“Alright, in two weeks _Civil War_ premieres, so we’ve booked you for an episode with the lead, Steve Rogers,” Gabe had said one day, entering Bucky’s office without knocking.

Bucky hadn’t heard anything else, completely frozen at hearing Gabe actually say Steve’s name out loud.

“Did—did you say Steve Rogers?” Bucky had stammered. Gabe had nodded, and then frowned when Bucky jumped around his office, punching his hands excitedly in the air. “Guess you’re a huge fan,” Gabe had muttered. If only he knew even the half of it.

Today’s the day he’s been waiting for, and now he has to go and be all fucking nervous, the prick. _Get it together_.

He steps out of his car once he has it parked, and heads towards the elevators to bring him up to the second floor, where his staff and crew are setting up for Steve’s interview. It’s not for another three hours, but it’s better to be safe and set up early than to rush in a few hours.

“Looking good, folks,” Bucky claps, walking towards Gabe who’s at his computer at a table off to the side.

“Chef’s going to cook up the wings around twelve thirty, that way they don’t cool down in time for the interview. He’s going to bring them over at ten minutes to filming.”

“Ah, Gabe, you are honestly the best. Absolute music to my ears,” Bucky grins, before turning to his camera crew to discuss how he wants the cameras set up. His questions for Steve are neatly written on a piece of paper tucked in his pocket, weighing heavily in his pocket.

_He can do this_ , he thinks.

_Four hours_ , he thinks. _Four hours and I get to see Steve again_.


	2. the interview (and then some)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part, where Bucky and Steve REUNITE <3
> 
> I'm having so much fun writing this and I hope it'll be just as enjoyable to read<3
> 
> All mistakes are mine, any severe ones, call me out!!
> 
> Enjoy:)

The day is long, Steve can’t deny it. He’s having fun, being with his friends again, promoting a movie they all worked hard for and love, but his mind is elsewhere. He can’t stop thinking about Bucky.

“Where’s your head at, man?” Sam asks, after their fifth interview. Their lunch break is in an hour, which means in about two, he’ll be reunited with Bucky. He can’t help but feel his palms start to sweat once more, the nerves building up in him like a crashing wave.

“Nowhere, I’m straight,” Steve nods, pulling at his jacket confidently. Sam smirks, and Steve automatically knows which joke is about to come out of his mouth, but he doesn’t have enough time to stop it.

“That, you aren’t,” Sam chokes, before bursting with laughter at Steve’s deadpan look. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just look nervous, that’s all. We’ve done press, like, a thousand times, why do you look so stressed?”

Steve sighs, looking away. Sam knows about the interview; he just doesn’t know about the backstory. If Steve tells him why he’s really nervous, the teasing is going to be constant. He’ll never hear the end of it.

“I just don’t like spicy food.”

Sam chuckles. “You’re kidding me. You’re the one that’s been begging to go on the show. Hell, I’ve done it. It’s not that bad, and Bucky really makes you feel welcome and taken care of. I asked for beer and one of his coworkers _left_ to go get me some beer. They’re the best, honestly.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Steve mutters under his breath, looking down at his hands. He takes a deep breath, nodding before looking back up at Sam and placing his most convincing, press smile on his face.

“That’s my guy,” Sam grins, throwing an arm over Steve’s shoulder. They continued to talk as their new interviewers got settled. Steve behaved, answered the questions like they wanted him to, and had his fun, Bucky always at the back of his mind.

Lunch arrives, and Steve can now feel the sweat dripping down his shirt, and god _damn_ it, why the hell is he so nervous? It’s just Bucky. They know each other. It’ll be fine.

Steve pretends that it’s not about the fact that Bucky is now built like a Greek God, long, brown hair always tied back in interviews, a nice 5 o’clock shadow making an appearance every few episodes, his nice, plain or plaid shirts always being filled out by a nice set of arms. Steve is intimidated by the guy, to say the least. It might stem from how much Bucky intimidated him in school, but Steve knows he’s never going to see himself as anything other than a five foot four, ninety-five pounds soaking wet little boy, no matter how fit he got. He probably towers slightly over Bucky now, but he still knows he’s going to feel small compared to him.

His cast members are talking, enjoying their lunch, but Steve’s not saying much, picking at his food. He’s scared; will Bucky be happy to see him? Will Bucky just be nice as long as the interview lasts and then dismiss him? What if Bucky thinks his acting sucks? What if Bucky thinks that Steve’s become an entitled little brat? Steve doesn’t feel like one, but then again, he never knows how he appears to others. Regardless of his truth, it may not be the same for anyone else.

He sees his agent stalking towards him, firing words into her Bluetooth earpiece. He stands up as soon as she approaches him, knowing it’s time.

“They’re ready for you, upstairs, for the _Hot Ones_ interview.”

Steve nods, parting with his other castmates before following his agent to the elevators. At the elevators, he’s greeted by a young, black man, wearing a tight-fitted black t-shirt with a flannel tied around his waist. He greets Steve the moment they’re directly in front of each other.

“Steve Rogers! Nice to finally meet you!”

Steve smiles, holding out his hand for a handshake. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

“I’m Gabe, I’m a co-producer and co-writer for the show,” the man says as they step into the elevator. “I’ve heard you’re a fan of the show, so you know how it goes, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods eagerly. “I’ve watched pretty much every episode, and I really admire what you guys do. I think it’s really different and creative.”

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it,” Gabe grins, as the elevator doors open to the second floor. The room is bright and wide with bleak, beige walls, although there are black drapes hung around the table, where the interview’s going to be held. There is actually a lot more production than Steve would’ve expected for a YouTube show; they’ve got a crew of about eight people, all with different tasks. Gabe walks around the set, pointing out everything and anything Steve needs to know.

“That’s Dum Dum, Montgomery and Jim,” Gabe points at three men currently setting up cameras. “They’re our cameramen. Over there,” he points at a man and a woman behind a computer. “That’s Jacques and Isadore. They’re the editors, they’re the ones that makes the clips for YouTube. Over here,” Gabe walks towards the set, where a table is set up outside of it, with rice, bread and limes, along with a mini fridge that probably has more things to make sure Steve doesn’t die eating these wings. There’s a man behind the table scrolling through his phone. “That’s Junior, but we like to call him Chef. He’s our cook; he made the wings, and also equips you with anything else you need. Beer, Pepto-Bismol, whatever you need, he’ll run to get it for you.” Junior lifts his head, saluting half-heartedly.

“Oh cool,” Steve says, eyes wide, a hand scratching his beard as he takes everything in. “Wow, this is like, a big production, I didn’t know how big of a deal this was.”

“Oh yeah, it takes a lot of people to bring something like this together.”

Steve grins, excitement bubbling up in his chest. “Be honest with me, Gabe, how bad are these sauces?”

Gabe smirks, looking away with a shake of his head. “I’m not going to say anything, all I’m going to say is if you’re not a spicy food lover, you’re going to suffer.”

Steve grimaces. “Well, good luck to me, I guess.”

“You’ll be fine,” a voice says behind him, and _wow_ , after all these years, he still recognizes that deep, rough voice. He’d recognize it anywhere, any time.

“Ah,” Gabe says, as Steve turns around slowly. “Can’t forget, that’s your interviewer, Bucky, but you already know that.”

+++

_Jeez_ , Bucky thinks. _He’s just as beautiful in person._

Bucky had dipped for a few minutes, heading to the bathroom to calm himself down. He shouldn’t be as nervous as he is, but he hasn’t seen Steve in so long. The anticipation and the unknown were making him sweat like a pig.

He pulled his hair back after quickly splashing water in his face, patting it dry with a hand towel. He tied a bun at the back of his neck, running his hand through the few strays that were falling into his face. He rolled down the sleeves of his burgundy Henley, rubbing his hands on his dark jeans before nodding at himself in the mirror.

“Everything is fine,” Bucky says to himself, throwing two thumbs up at the mirror before heading out of the bathroom.

Now, he’s standing in front of Steve, and all air escapes his lungs. His voice comes out shaky as he tells Steve he’ll be fine, dreading the moment Steve turns to fully face him. When they finally make eye contact, it feels like lightning struck down on his soul, the electricity coursing from the tip of his head right to his toes.

Steve was gorgeous; his long, blonde hair was slicked back, his face beautifully framed by a lightly grown-out beard. He had on a green shirt under his black leather jacket, with black pants hugging his thighs so beautifully it wasn’t leaving much to the imagination.

The best part, though, was the smile. Steve was smiling at him like Bucky was the only person in the room, the lines by his eyes becoming more defined the more his grin stretched. Bucky had missed that smile, but mostly, he had missed that smile being directed at him.

“Your hair’s longer,” Steve notices, making Bucky immediately reach back for his bun with a blush. Trying to stomp down his immense feelings of nervousness, he smirks, waving a hand in Steve’s general direction. “You’re taller.”

Steve laughs, averting eye contact for a second before looking back up, taking one hesitant step forward. Before he can take another, Bucky has already crossed the floor, arms immediately thrown around Steve’s shoulders. Not even a second passes before Steve has his arms around Bucky’s waist, his head dropping to Bucky’s shoulder.

“Good to see you, Buck,” Steve whispers, making Bucky hug him tighter, a lump forming in his throat. _You fucking wuss, why the hell are you about to cry?_

“I told you we’d meet again,” Bucky whispers back, to which Steve laughs wetly in return. The hug is long, but Bucky doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, and maybe, Steve has been, too. Being in his arms feels like being back home, in the comfort of his Brooklyn neighborhood. It feels like a reunion with a lost love. It feels like a broken heart being put back together. Bucky hadn’t realized how much his little moments with Steve meant to him until this moment.

They pull away from each other after a minute, grinning at each other brightly, ignoring the odd looks they were getting from the crew. Bucky never mentioned knowing Steve, but they were all going to find out through the interview.

“This is nice and all, but if we could speed this up, I have a flight to catch, later.”

Bucky turns to glare quickly at Gabe, who raises his hands defensively, but Steve only laughs, nodding. “Sorry about that, we can get started anytime.”

Gabe nods, as they follow him to the set. Bucky turns to look at Steve, who’s already smiling back at him, and Bucky’s heart just about fucking _leaps_. This guy is so goddamned cute.

“Flight tonight?” Steve mumbles to Bucky, nodding towards Gabe.

“He’s from D.C.,” Bucky explains, as they walk through the black drapes, to be greeted with a table, two trays of wings in front of each seat, hot sauces lined up across the table, with milk and water by each tray. “He’s going home once this is over, you know. Wife, kids, the American dream,” Bucky smirks. Steve laughs along as he takes his designated seat, Bucky doing the same.

“You got kids?” Steve asks, and Bucky immediately shakes his head. “Think you need a relationship for that, and I haven’t had a boyfriend since my internship. Haven’t really been looking, either,” Bucky admits, albeit quite embarrassingly. Steve must be getting all sorts of romantic attention, so admitting that Bucky has had very little action since his early twenties isn’t the best thing he’s said out loud. “What about you?”

“Also, single,” Steve says, a light blush rising to his cheeks. “Haven’t had a girlfriend—or a boyfriend—in a few years. Just waiting for it to happen naturally.” Bucky knew Steve was bi; he remembered the day Steve had casually dropped it on his interview with James Corden and remembered how excited he had gotten. At the time, it was only wishful thinking, the thought of Steve and Bucky ever seeing each other again and possibly developing something.

Now though, sitting in front of Steve, who has the largest grin on his face, his old fantasies don’t seem so out of reach, if he plays his cards right.

“Looks like we’re both out of experience,” Bucky shrugs, and Steve laughs. “It’s not the end of the world.”

After their little interaction, Bucky tells him the basics of the interview, telling him how long it should approximately last and how the process works. Steve seems to know what Bucky’s talking about most of the time, having clearly watched the show before, so the explanation is not too complicated.

“It’s easier to cut out pauses than it is to cut out things you don’t want people to hear, so take as long as you need to answer a question, even if it takes a while to come up with an answer. We’ll just cut out the useless stuff.”

“Okay, cool,” Steve nods, pulling at his jacket as he eyes the wings. “This is going to hurt, but I’m ready.”

Bucky laughs, sending him a good luck wink before signaling to the cameramen that they’re ready. Jim holds up a hand, counting down to five, before pointing a finger at Bucky, and Bucky immediately brings his confidence up a notch, ready to be the host he was destined to be.

+++

“Hey guys, what’s up, from _First We Feast_ , I’m Bucky Barnes and you’re watching _Hot Ones_ , it’s the show with burning hot questions and even hotter wings, and today we’re with Steve Rogers, he’s going to be the lead in the upcoming, highly anticipated third installment in the _Captain America_ films, _Captain America: Civil War._ Steve, it’s awesome to have you here.”

Steve grins back at Bucky, slightly shaken up by the fact that for once, he wasn’t listening to Bucky’s usual introduction through the weak speaker of his computer screen, because this time it was being directed right at him. This feels like a fever dream. Not a bad one, but a fever dream, nonetheless. “I’m very excited to be here, man.”

“So,” Bucky starts, “the viewers don’t know this, and actually, my crew doesn’t know this, but we’re both from Brooklyn.” Steve nods, a smile on his face. “We actually went to the same high school.”

“Yes, we did,” Steve nods, surprised that Bucky was bringing this up, but he’s not complaining. Taking a trip down memory lane was bringing back up a lot of old feelings towards Bucky, making his heart soar. He still can’t believe he’s sitting in front of him right now. “I was, you know, a puny, five foot four, theatre kid and you were the most entertaining being at our high school, so, it was only meant to be that we’d end up where we are right now.”

“You’ve got that right,” Bucky grins. “You even said to me, I don’t know if you remember,” which, of course Steve remembers. “You said this was kind of _made_ for me, you know, hosting, and you were already acting by then, so, I mean, none of this is really surprising.”

“Exactly, it was pretty much destiny, at this rate,” Steve laughs. Bucky grins back at him, and good _Lord_ , has his eyes always been this pretty? They must’ve been.

“Alright, more reflecting on high school later,” Bucky places both palms down on the table, raising a single eyebrow challengingly. “Are you ready for this?”

Steve sucks air through his teeth, trying not to grimace. “Honestly, I don’t think so, but fuck it. Let’s do this. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“Are you a big hot sauce eater?”

“I am not,” Steve shakes his head. “But I love wings, so I’m hoping that the wings make up for my palate that I’m probably about to scorch.”

“I don’t think you’ll like wings so much after this,” Bucky smirks, to which Steve shrugs his shoulders.

“Oh well, it’ll be worth it.”

Bucky claps his hands, rubbing them together before grabbing the first wing. “Okay, sick, so, this one is the mildest one we have, it’s just called the Classic Hot Sauce, and it has a Scoville Level of 1800, so, it really isn’t that bad.”

“Okay, cool,” Steve says, grabbing the wing. _Here goes nothing_.

He takes a bite, and he’s not dead yet. It’s slightly hotter than Sriracha, which is just about the hottest thing he’s ever tasted, but he’s not shot yet, and for a brief moment, he thinks, _I’m going to do this with no milk or water_.

“Alright, so, I’ll dive right into it. So, with these big, feature movies that you guys film, obviously there are many different filming locations, and you guys get to travel around the world to different locations to get your footage, which must be absolutely incredible to see. Is there a certain place that you’ve visited while filming that you went there and thought, ‘I’m going to be back here for sure, on my own’, or is it all just quick business, so you don’t get to enjoy most of it?”

The question is long, but Steve’s paying attention, nodding along whenever he can. He slowly realizes that his attention span is going to be an issue as the wings get hotter, but for now, he’s got a handle on things. “Yeah, no, it definitely is quite iffy, you know, when you’re going in for filming, you’re focused on getting the job done and not getting distracted by the place you’re in, so you don’t get to enjoy it as much, but…” he pauses, racking his brain for all the different places he’s visited, filming for Marvel. “Man, we’ve been to a lot of places. I guess, Paris, was probably my favorite place to shoot at, a place I’d definitely return to. As an artist, they have a lot of artistic monuments and buildings, so it’s definitely somewhere I’d want to return to get to enjoy it more by myself. It is nice, though, that my job permits me to go places that I’ve never been to before.”

Bucky nods along to everything Steve says, a small grin on his face as Steve answers. He tries not to stumble over his words, not wanting his nervousness to be seen on camera or to Bucky.

“Paris is, might I say, very nice,” Bucky agrees. “I have never been, but the images must do it justice.”

“Oh, definitely,” Steve agrees. “I’d have to even say the images don’t do it enough justice. It truly is just a beautiful place.”

“Speaking of artist,” Bucky continues. “That’s right, you have a passion for drawing, as well as acting, and you actually got to create the Winter Soldier character for the second movie in the installment, that you hand-drew yourself! What was that like, to see a character that you created and that you designed come to life on the big screen?”

Steve smiles, remembering the moment the Russos asked him to design the look for the Winter Soldier, Captain America’s presumedly dead best friend who came back, brain hijacked by Hydra. “Oh man, that was amazing. Acting and drawing are two of my biggest passions, and so to be able to explore both of them while working on this movie was a big deal. I got to almost fully draw ‘im out to the smallest detail, and then the costume designers got to work on everything else, but yeah, it was amazing. It was quite literally a drawing-to-costume look, I mean they got every detail hands down when creating the costume, so, yeah, it was incredible.”

“Would you do it again, given the chance?”

“Definitely. Hands down, I would do that again. It’s so cool to see onscreen, to know that _you_ created _that_. It’s an amazing feeling, so yeah, I’d definitely give it another go if I were ever asked.”

Bucky grins, with one last nod. “Okay, perfect, that was good. We can move on to the next one, if you’re up for it?”

“Absolutely,” Steve grins, eyeing the wings with gusto. “Now that I’ve started, I’m ready to go, give me _all_ the hot wings.”

Bucky exclaims with laughter as he reaches for the next wing, Steve doing the same.

“Alright, so, this second one is called the Chicago, Red Hot Jalapeno Hot Sauce, and it has a Scoville level of 2800.”

“Nice,” Steve says, before taking a big bite. “This one’s tasty, I like it.”

“You do?” Bucky grins, as he takes his bite too. Steve nods, biting his lip, before leaning forward in his seat. He has no idea if this is allowed, but he might as well go for it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it,” Bucky grins, leaning forward as well.

“Okay, so, how many of these have you done?”

“Oh God,” Bucky looks up, eyes squinting thoughtfully. Steve can’t help but notice how adorable Bucky looks. “I believe you’re maybe my fiftieth or sixtieth episode.”

Steve’s eyebrows climb to his hairline, mouth dropping in shock. “Wow. That’s very impressive.”

“Thank you!” Bucky grins.

“So,” Steve continues, “Do you feel differently now, like, physically, than you did when you first started?”

“I mean yeah, definitely,” Bucky says, leaning forward. “I think it was an entire, you know, a whole physical adjustment. The sauces, I mean, they’re very _hot_ , and to do that as much as I do, you almost have to be able to keep your chill because you want the interviewed to struggle with the heat, you don’t want to show your cards.”

“So, the sauces are still hot to you like they are to me?”

“They’re hot, but at this point I’ve done it so many times that they don’t affect me like they used to. However, I do think at some point I was doing really well, and now I’m kind of, struggling with them again! I’m losing my flow, losing my strength!”

Steve laughs, nodding along. “Either way, man, I could not be in your shoes. What you’re doing is very impressive, but also so creative, I mean, if there’s any other way to entertain your audience it’s to put your guests through pain, am I right?”

Bucky cackles, throwing his head back, making Steve join in on the laughter as well. “What can I say, man, entertaining people has always been my forte.”

“Well, keep it up, because it suits you well.” He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice, nor does he mention it.

“Thanks, man. So, Jacques, Jacques Dernier, that you met earlier, he is actually French, and is quite proud of his French culture. He actually currently lives in France and flies out to film this, he’s a real trooper, but he’s also a great connoisseur of everything Paris, which would be very helpful if you ever decided to take that trip to Paris.”

“Oh, that’s awesome!” Steve grins, looking over at Jacques, who’s behind the curtain, watching the interview. “I guess I’ll have to contact him the next time I go there, he’ll have to be my tour guide for _The Louvre_ or _Notre Dame_.”

“Exactly,” Bucky grins. “If you don’t mind, we’ll take the next one.”

“I’m down,” Steve agrees, reaching for the next wing.

+++

For someone who is not a big spicy food eater, Steve is handling these wings like an absolute pro. He doesn’t know if Steve’s doing it as a way to look like he’s handling it when he’s actually dying, or if he’s just doing well. Either way, Bucky knows that all bets are off when they make it down two more wings, which is where Da Bomb is. Da Bomb gets everyone.

“So, on the fifth wing, we like to do this thing called ‘Explain That Gram’ where we do a deep dive into our guests’ Instagram, pull interesting pictures that need more context, and let you explain what the photos mean, so I’m going to pull out this tablet,” Bucky takes the tablet from Gabe’s hand, quickly unlocking it before heading towards Instagram, where they had bookmarked three of Steve’s posts for the deep dive. “I’ll show you the picture, and then you just give me the bigger picture, cool?”

Steve throws up two thumbs up, a grin on his face, though Bucky can see the faint line of sweat building up at his hairline. _We’ve got him_.

“Hold on, is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Steve asks, lightly fanning his face. Bucky smirks and can see how Steve is starting to struggle with the heat.

“It is hot in here, but it’s also the wings.” Bucky can’t pull his eyes away when Steve sheds his jacket, being directly exposed to Steve’s ah- _mazing_ biceps that are stretching through his shirt. _Lord, strike me down now_.

“Okay, no, I’m ready,” Steve nods, leaning forward to look at the photo on the tablet.

“So, this first one,” Bucky points over to it. Steve immediately bursts out laughing, and Bucky’s obsessed with the way Steve laughs; he throws his head back, a hand to his chest, as he laughs heartedly. Bucky on camera probably looks like a lovestruck idiot. Maybe he is.

The Instagram photo in question, is simply a tree. It’s just a photo of a tree. “Care to explain, what this is about?” Bucky chuckles.

“So, okay, here’s the thing,” Steve says, trying to muffle a cough (the heat, it’s _working_ ) before continuing. “You can see that this image is literally my first Instagram post. It was like, a test run, I’ve never had Instagram before, so I was just testing to see how it worked.”

“Is this, like, a tree in your backyard?”

“No, it’s from Google Images.” This time, it’s Bucky’s turn to laugh, cackling at Steve’s inability to use social media. Steve pouts jokingly, dropping his face in the crook of his arm. “Don’t laugh at me, I was trying my best.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bucky chuckles, wiping at a couple of stray tears. “So sorry. Okay, test run. Got it. What about this one?” This time, it’s an image of Steve, holding a purple lightsaber in front of a _Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back_ poster.

“Oh!” he exclaims, his eyebrows shooting up in recognition. “That’s crazy, this is actually in Brooklyn. It’s uh, about two or three years ago, they had all the movies back in theatres on May 4th, for Star Wars Day. I had been a big fan of the Star Wars movies, growing up, so seeing them in theatres, for me, was a huge moment, so I documented it. I actually picked the purple lightsaber because I found it cool that Nick Fury’s character got a purple lightsaber simply because he thought it was cool.”

“Oh, I remember hearing about that,” Bucky nods. “I wasn’t in attendance, but that must’ve been so cool.”

“It really was.”

“Alright, one more photo, this one—this one is adorable,” Bucky coos, turning the screen to Steve. Steve immediately awws, grinning at the screen.

“Ah, that’s my baby Dodger,” Steve grins, looking at the small puppy on the screen. “This was right when I got him. He’s _much_ bigger now, but at the time he was tiny. He’s a rescue, actually. Found him abandoned with a bunch of other puppies on the side of the road, so I kept him and fostered the rest, and they’re all in good homes now.”

Bucky smiles softly, his heart swelling. Steve was, perfect. The absolute sweetest, most perfect man.

“That’s so nice of you,” Bucky coos, Steve shrugging sheepishly as Bucky handed the tablet back to Gabe.

“I do what I can,” Steve says, reaching for the next wing. “Alright, Bucky, what’s this one?”

“This one is the Adoboloco Kolohe Kid Hawaiian Hot Sauce—”

“Does that say _ghost pepper_?” Steve exclaims, eyes practically bugging out of his head. Bucky smirks immediately, knowing this was the turning point. They’re getting increasingly hotter, and at this point, there’s no turning back.

“It does say ghost pepper,” Bucky confirms, taking a bite out of his. It’s hot, but once again, he’s used to this. He’s doing okay.

Steve, not so much.

“This one has a Scoville Level of 61 000,” Bucky starts, as Steve nods repeatedly.

“Oh yeah,” he breathes, coughs, inhales, coughs again. “Yup. That one… this is _hot_.”

Bucky chuckles, watching Steve start to seriously squirm. “We’re in the back half now, Steve, it’s getting real.”

“This one is _hot_ ,” Steve repeats, as he starts to shift uncomfortably in his seat. He makes an aborted move for the milk, before retracting his hand. “No, no milk. I got this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, ask me the question,” Steve replies, sitting up straighter, his eyes starting to line with tears, and yet, the big smile remains on his face.

“If you say so. On March 27th, you were on _Jimmy Fallon_ for the first time, accompanied by your co-star, Sam Wilson, and Jimmy—”

“Hold on,” Steve chuckled, coughing into his elbow. “Hold on, I’m not back yet, I think a piece came back up,” he laughs, coughing once more. At this point, everyone on set is watching them, laughing along with Bucky. They never tire of seeing their guests start to feel the heat, but this one is a lot funnier for Bucky considering the circumstances. Regardless, Bucky continues with his question.

“So Jimmy said later on that you two on the show had been, in quote, the ‘most chaotic, funny, craziest guests I’ve had on the show’. You and Sam are best friends on and of screen, but is that kind of energy the same energy you bring to set, are you guys like this all the time?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve chuckles, clearing his throat. “No, we’re irritating as fuck, excuse my French. Sam is the funniest man I’ve ever met, and he just fills the room with happiness and laughter, he’s just a really fun guy, but he also brings the energy out in me, which, combined together is any director’s worst nightmare, truly. He really is just an amazing guy, though.”

“You and Sam had worked together before, on _What’s Your Number_. Is there a different energy between you based on what you’re filming, is there a different vibe on set? Or do you feel like it remains consistent?”

“Hm,” Steve hums. “To be honest, no, I think with us the thing is that, you know, once those cameras cut, we really are back to our regular selves, and so our regular personalities and ways of being just come back naturally. No, the way we are is very much us all the time. It’s chaotic, it’s hilarious, it’s a lot but it’s very _us_. It’s unique, and I honestly consider that guy one of my best friends, truly.”

Bucky smiles, and he can’t help but feel his heart tighten in his chest. Steve wasn’t the most loved guy back in high school, constantly bullied by others, and it had hurt Bucky to see. To hear that Steve now had a genuine best friend that cared about him made Bucky’s day; if there’s anything he had wanted to hear from Steve, it was that.

“That’s great. I love that for you.”

“Thanks,” Steve grinned, his teeth peeking between his lips, and goddamn it, there goes Bucky’s heart, soaring to the next generation. He is _obsessed with this man_.

“Alright, this one,” he says, picking up the next wing, “we’re making a big jump here. Remember that our last wing, had a Scoville Level of 61 000. This one,” Bucky pauses for dramatic effect, “This one has a Scoville Level of 116 400.”

There is nothing more satisfying than the way Steve’s mouth drops. “I’m scared.”

“You should be.”

“It’s weird,” Steve begins, as he observes his wing. “When you watch you almost don’t really focus on the Scoville Levels, you just know it’s getting hotter and hotter, but actually _eating_ the wings is a whole different ballpark, because now I know just how _hot_ 61 000 is, so this is… I’m scared.”

Bucky laughs, taking a bite of his wing, as Steve hesitates, bringing the wing closer to his face. “This can’t be safe. Is this safe?”

“It’s safe to eat, I promise you,” Bucky grins. “Come on, you got this.”

Sighing defeatedly, Steve brings the wing to his mouth, taking a significantly smaller bite than his last one. Steve pauses, tilting his head back and forth before pausing.

“I don’t—” he cuts himself off with a few coughs, and Bucky can only chuckle as he has to sniff his own nose. It is getting _very hot_ in the room, in more ways than one. “I don’t understand. You’ve done this fifty times?”

“More or less,” Bucky shrugs. Steve shakes his head in bewilderment, and finally, _finally_ , he reaches for the milk. “I need this milk now, I tried my best but—” he sniffles, “No, this is really, _really_ bad. I can’t feel my mouth. I _cannot_ feel my mouth.”

“So, Steve, before acting, you actually used to do theatre, and that’s what you began with—”

“I am not hearing anything you're saying,” Steve cuts off with a grin, and this time, there are a few tears coming down his face. “I am not even, my head is empty right now. This _hurts_.”

At this point, the crew is doubled over in laughter, and even Bucky is trying not to laugh too hard. There are tears and sweat dripping down Steve’s face, he’s breathing heavily, he has now rolled his sleeves up to expose more skin, and he’s rocking back and forth on his chair like he’s on the verge of exploding. This sounds horrible, but Bucky is enjoying every second of it.

“You began with theatre, and recently you toured for the play _Lobby Hero_. As someone who has now done acting in both film and theatre, is there one that’s harder to do than the other?”

There’s a pause, and Steve is looking up at the sky, almost like if he’s praying, and Bucky genuinely starts to think that Steve’s going to tap out. After a few seconds, he looks back down, takes another sip of his milk, clears his throat, and rights himself.

“Right, okay. The question. Is theatre harder or is movies harder, um, I’d have to say there isn’t one necessarily harder, they kind of both have their hardships and their benefits. Although, with theatre, I would have to say that it’s a bit more complicated than movies in terms of lines. With movies, you learn your lines, and if you forget during filming, someone can literally just feed it to you, and then you just redo the scene, so it’s smoother. However, in theatre, if you don’t know your line and you freeze up on stage, that’s a bit embarrassing, and it’s not something that you really want to go through. I will add though, that there is more room for improvisation in theatre than there is in movies. If you mess up a line then you can improvise. Can’t do that in movies, not when you have an exact script.”

Bucky nods along, keeping the key points of Steve’s answer in mind. “Do you feel like there’s a difference in audience?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve nods feverishly, coughing up another storm briefly before continuing. “Theatre compared to movies are a completely different ballpark, and so the audience is very different as well.”

“Do you think it’s harder to please long-time comic readers or theatre fans?”

Steve hesitates, biting at his lip. “I think it’s harder to please comic book readers. Not in a bad way,” Steve rushes. “I think it’s different because, especially with the MCU, movies are an adaptation of the comics. You have these people that grew up with the comics and so they expect, you know, a certain structure, a certain scene, a certain thing to go a specific way, so when it’s not like that they can get mad, but I mean, I never hold it against them. Everyone is passionate over different things.”

“Absolutely,” Bucky agrees. With a nod, he looks down at his wing. “Alright. Are you ready for Da Bomb?”

“No,” Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Nope. No. I cannot—I’m scared!” he exclaims, and the room erupts with laughter.

“You’ve got this, you’re so close to the end!” Bucky cheers on, so Steve nods, mumbling “I can do this” over and over as he looks down at the wing. He then pauses, picking it up to evaluate it. “Are you—I can SEE the chilli flakes on this!” he complains. Bucky only shrugs, taking a bite out of his wing.

Oh yeah. This one, this one is hot. He’s keeping it cool, he’s keeping his composure, but he knows that at this point, Steve Rogers is done for.

+++

Right. So.

Hell. Hell is hot. Right? Theoretically. From what the world assumes, Hell is hot as fuck. It’s just fire.

Think of how Hell hot is, and now imagine, Hell _inside_ Steve’s mouth.

That is how he feels right now. Just straight up _fire_.

Granted, he has no regrets. Coming on here, seeing Bucky again, getting to answer questions that weren’t the same boring, monotone, annoying press questions felt nice. It almost felt more like a conversation with an old friend than an interview, and you know what, the wings were good. Nice and crispy.

_However_. His mouth is just fire. It’s filled with fire.

Da Bomb had been the last straw; he hadn’t been able to sit still after that one. At some point, he was pacing around the table, trying to cool himself down. Bucky asked another three questions and Steve didn’t hear any of them. His mind was fully empty. No thought processing, no nothing. Just a burning mouth and an extremely sweaty body.

The crew was laughing, so, that can be counted as a win. His episode is going to be good, that’s for sure.

“We call this one the last dab because we always add a little extra sauce on the last one.”

“Do I have to do that?” Steve asks, in between his deep inhales. He grabs the bowl of ice cream that was brought to him by the wonderful Junior, who has been taking very good care of him, and just drops his tongue into the bowl. It doesn’t feel as good as it should.

“Home stretch Steve, this is the last one and then you’re done!”

Steve looks up, and on a whim, holds his hand out. “Hold my hand.”

Bucky reaches for his hand, grabbing it tightly, and Steve pushes down the butterflies that are beginning to form in his stomach. To be able to still feel butterflies when he’s in the kind of pain he’s in is beyond him, but they make their appearance, nonetheless.

“We shall do this last one together,” Steve says, through his tears. Bucky nods along, gripping his hand tighter.

“I’ve got you, buddy. We’re in it together.”

Steve inhales sharply, then exhales, then grabs the last bottle of hot sauce. He momentarily wants to smash it on the ground, but he doesn’t. _Stupid hot sauce. I’m never eating you again._

He places a small extra portion on his last wing and holds it up in the air with his right hand, his left hand still hooked with Bucky’s. “To Brooklyn.”

“To Brooklyn,” Bucky smiles widely, placing _the entire wing in his mouth_. Fuck that. Steve takes a bite and puts it down almost immediately.

The minute he places the last wing down, the studio is clapping for him, cheering him on for having succeeded. He can’t help it, he throws his arms up in the air joyously, basking in the success. For someone who doesn’t eat spicy food, he did a damn good job.

“Look at you, Steve Rogers! Ten chicken wings down, you’ve succeeded the challenge, you’ve made it through ten of the hottest wings ever! I’m rolling down the red carpet for you—this camera, this camera, this camera!” he cheers, pointing at the three cameras that are set up. “Let the people know what you’ve got going on in your life.”

Steve turns to the cameras, a bright smile on his face. “First of all, I need anyone watching to donate 2$ to help support all the victims of _Hot Ones_ ,” he says, which gets a loud laugh out of everyone. “But no, in all seriousness, everything’s great, everything’s going well, hope everyone watching is doing good as well, and my small little Indie film _Captain America: Civil War_ is coming out next week, with a big premiere here in LA so, check it out if you want to, or don’t, but yeah. That’s it!”

“Let’s give Steve one last round of applause man, he’s a trooper!” Bucky cheers one more time, leading to another loud round of applause through the room. They both stand up, coming around the table so that Dum Dum can take pictures.

“That was fucking amazing, man,” Bucky exclaims, coming up next to Steve and wrapping an arm around his lower back.

“My mouth is _on fire_ ,” Steve laughs, a hand by his stomach. “My bathroom is not going to look pretty tonight.”

Bucky coughs through his laughter, as the other crew members come in for a photo. Dum Dum gets the shot, and then they walk through the curtains, leaving the set behind. As they step through the black curtains, Sam and Clint are waiting for him, along with his agent.

“How was it?” Sam smirks, as Steve approaches them, Bucky in tow. He almost doesn’t notice that the hand that he had put around Bucky’s waist for the photo is still there.

“Honestly, I almost can’t talk right now. My mouth… oh God,” Steve whines, as Sam, Clint _and_ Bucky all laugh at him. “I have no regrets, that was honestly so much fun,” he says, looking over at Bucky, who’s already grinning back at him. They may have stared at each other for too long, because Sam and Clint give each other a knowing look, before poking at Steve’s side. Flinching, he quickly drops his arm from Bucky’s back, turning to his friends.

“We gotta go man, our driver’s here.”

“Just a second,” Steve replies, waving them off. They look at each other knowingly before turning towards the elevators. With the boys gone, Steve turns to face Bucky, who’s grinning widely at him. Steve’s stomach is doing backflips _again, Jesus H_.

“It was really nice to see you,” Bucky says. Steve nods agreeingly, looking down shyly at his hands.

“It was nice to see you too, Buck. Do you live in LA?” Bucky shakes his head.

“No, I’m still in New York. My flight leaves two nights from now. You?”

Steve hopes that Bucky can’t see the disappointment on his face. He wishes Bucky were staying longer; wishes that they could spend more time together. They have a lot more catching up to do than Steve had originally imagined, and now Steve doesn’t want to do anything else but sit with Bucky for hours and just _talk_.

“I’m in Boston, actually, but I’ll be in LA for a while, what with the premiere and everything.”

“Cool,” Bucky smiles, before looking away. Steve’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He wants to say something, _anything_ , to keep their conversation going, but he can’t think of anything, and he has to go soon.

Steve is going out with Sam, Clint and Nat, Tony and Thor for drinks, and he hesitates; he wants to invite Bucky. He wants to bring him, to tell his friends how Bucky used to always look after him, how Bucky is the most hilarious guy he knows, how Bucky deserves every _bit_ of success he has. He wants to show him off, show everyone how _proud_ he is to know Bucky Barnes.

Before an invite can slip out of his lips, Gabe is already shouting at Bucky, telling him he needs to help out with packing up.

“I have to go,” Bucky says, and Steve isn’t one hundred percent certain, but he thinks he can hear sadness in Bucky’s tone of voice. “Again, I had a great time, and it was really good to see you again.”

“You too,” Steve replies, taking a short step forward. “I, uh—”

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Bucky says, throwing himself at Steve, wrapping his arms around his neck like he had done when Steve first arrived. Steve’s arms immediately come around Bucky’s waist, his head dipping between his shoulder and his neck, and he feels like he could stay there forever.

It’s weird, how feelings work. When Steve was younger and in school with Bucky, he hadn’t let himself get too close to him. He knew that he was crushing on him _hard_ , but he also didn’t know him well enough. Their brief talks on the walks home weren’t enough to consider Bucky anything close to a friend, because realistically, that was the only time they talked. They didn’t look at each other when crossing each other in the hallways, they didn’t share any classes (then again, Steve _was_ a year above him), and they didn’t sit with each other at lunch. They weren’t friends.

In this moment, though, Bucky’s arms around him, Steve’s head in his neck, he wishes he had gotten to know him. He wishes he hadn’t gone all of these years without having Bucky in his life. He realizes, in this moment, that even though they hadn’t been that close, they clearly both cared deeply for one another. He could feel it in a simple hug, feel Bucky’s protective arms around him, just as protective as they had been when they collided with Steve’s old bullies. Bucky had been something like a guardian angel, for him. There when he was needed, but otherwise, just keeping an eye on him. Steve should’ve pushed. He should’ve made more moves to talk to him, to become friends, maybe more.

But why the second chance? He’s not superstitious in any way, but the way the Universe worked, to reunite Bucky and Steve again, that couldn’t be a coincidence. Everything happens for a reason; maybe they were _meant_ to see each other again. Maybe high school hadn’t been their time, but maybe _now_ , it was. Maybe their friendship could develop now, maybe even more. Steve doesn’t know, he just knows he doesn’t want to lose touch with Bucky again. He _can’t_.

Steve pulls away, and he doesn’t know what to say, what to do, his heart racing. He panics. “Buck—”

“I’ll see you,” Bucky smiles, eyes sad, before dropping his arms and turning his back to Steve. He’s walking away, and Steve is frozen in place, not wanting to leave, but not wanting to keep Bucky any longer. _Come on, Steve. Don’t let him slip through your fingers_.

“Steve! Let’s go, man, we’re waiting on you!”

With a defeated drop of his shoulders, Steve turns as well, heading to meet his friends at the elevators. He tries to put on a happy smile, but he can’t help but think that he blew it. Any chance him and Bucky have at reconnecting is probably out the window now.

“He’s not disappearing off the face of the Earth,” Sam says, as they step into the elevator. “You’re an idiot for not asking for his number, but he’s one of the most famous interviewers in America, right now. Just send him a DM.”

“I just—” Steve sighs. Sam might just think Steve finds Bucky cute; he doesn’t know that there’s an entire background story to their relationship.

“I saw the way you looked at him,” Clint spoke up, making Steve’s head snap towards Clint.

“And you were nervous for the interview,” Sam chimes, and Steve can only look back and forth between Clint and Sam’s knowing looks. Even his agent is grinning behind them.

“You know him,” Sam continues. “I don’t know how, and I’m not forcing you to tell us. I’m just saying I _saw_ something between the two of you, something that doesn’t occur between strangers. You’ll meet again; trust me.”

Steve wants to listen to Sam, but part of him can’t help but be doubtful. That felt like his one chance. Bucky probably gets hundreds of DMs a day, would he even see Steve’s?

In the end, it was worth a try. Not tonight; he would let himself calm down first, enjoy a night with his friends, and then the next day, he would message Bucky, and hope for the best.

He just wanted to get drunk.

+++

“So let me get this straight,” Natasha smirks, leaning forward. “He was your bi awakening?”

“Something like that,” Steve frowns, playing with the straw in his drink.

“That is darn cute, this whole thing,” Sam coos, and Steve immediately shoves at his shoulder, as Sam laughs.

Steve decided to tell them about Bucky; he trusted his friends, and they would remain curious for a while. It wasn’t something he felt like keeping from them any longer, so he told them. Now, he only felt like more of an idiot, regretting not asking Bucky to come. His friends would’ve loved him.

“It doesn’t matter how cute it is, because I blew it,” Steve sighs, taking a sip of his drink. Tony chortles, placing his beer down.

“Relax, Capsicle,” Tony smirks, Steve dropping Tony a glare. He _hates_ the Captain America nicknames. He is _the_ Captain, goddammit, put some respect on that name. “Your chance will come again. How long is he here for, another night? LA’s big, but not big enough. Odds are you’ll spot him again, and boom, happily ever after.”

“You’re real optimistic,” Steve utters sarcastically, and Tony gasps, placing a hand to his chest. “When am I not?”

“I think you should send him a message,” Thor says, gently nudging Steve’s shoulder with his. “If it is meant to be, it will be. He will reply to you if he feels the same way you do about him.”

“I’m scared,” Steve whispers. “That’s just the thing. What if he doesn’t reply? What if he sees it and isn’t looking for reconnection like I am? Then I just look like a fool.”

“A fool that tried his best,” Thor consoles. “You cannot force any one thing, but the best you can do is try.”

“Thor’s right, Steve,” Sam agrees. “You won’t know until you try.”

Steve knows they’re right, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less stressed out. “I’m going to get tequila shots; you guys want anything?” Steve asks, clambering over Thor to get out of the booth.

“Just get a whole round of shots for the table. On me!” Tony winks. Steve rolls his eyes, biting down on his smile. Oh Tony, ever the generous.

“Don’t forget the salt and lime!” Sam hollers, as he walks away. Steve raises a single thumbs-up, before heading for the bar.

There aren’t many people sitting at the bar; there’s one man, his back directly to him, who seems to be scrolling on his phone, and then a couple by the left side of the bar, talking over a shared drink.

Steve waves the bartender over, who gets an immediate look of recognition on his face. “Welcome, Captain America!”

“Thanks,” Steve grins. He gives his order off to the bartender, who gets to work almost immediately. Steve takes a seat on a stool about three seats down from the other man there by himself, and pulls out his phone, shooting off a quick reply to his agent, who had let him know that he had the day off tomorrow. He tucks his phone in his pocket, and suddenly feels uneasy, feeling a pair of eyes on him. Hesitantly, he turns his head slightly to the side, and _oh_.

His hair is down, one side tucked behind his ear, the rest dropping to frame his face. He’s got on a tight, white t-shirt, the sleeves hugging tightly on his biceps. He’s got a drink in his hand and his phone in the other, but his eyes are solely focused on Steve, surprise and happiness twinkling in his eyes.

“Steve?”

“Bucky,” Steve smiles, immediately standing to take the seat next to Bucky. Talk about second chances, God was giving him _many_.

“Fancy seeing you here. How’s your mouth?” Bucky smirks, and Steve rolls his eyes, punching Bucky lightly on the shoulder.

“It’s not in its best shape, I can tell you that.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky laughs, but Steve shakes his head. “Don’t be. I wanted to be on the show.”

A comfortable silence lapses between them, as Bucky takes a sip of his drink, tucking his phone in his pocket.

“Did you expect it?” Steve blurts, suddenly, and Bucky turns to look at him. “Expect what?”

“Your success. All those years ago, when I said… when I said you’d be a great talk-show host. Did you expect to end up where you’re at?”

Bucky is silent for a few seconds, and Steve’s internal panic skyrockets. _I’ve pissed him off. I must have pissed him off. This is why you don’t ask questions, Steve, because you always fuck it up_.

“No,” Bucky says, finally, causing Steve’s heart rate to decrease once more. “Honestly. When I got my internship, part of me was scared that I would just end up at a desk job my whole life, always working behind the scenes. It was a genuine fear of mine,” Bucky explains, as he runs his fingers across his glass. “I pitched the idea with Gabe for _Hot Ones_ , and I guess the entire _First We Feast_ premise, on a whim. We didn’t have a full idea down, and we were scared that it would get rejected. But they loved it; soaked it all up. We did a few trial runs, and before we knew it, our numbers were reaching _React_ channel numbers. It was absolutely surreal.”

Steve’s heart soars; he can see just how happy and passionate Bucky about what he does. It was clearly made for him.

“I’m so happy for you,” Steve mumbles, and Bucky smiles widely at him. He doesn’t say anything, but he pushes his hair behind his ears once more. It may be the lighting, but Steve thinks he can see coloration in his cheeks.

The bartender brings over the shots Steve ordered, and Steve tells him to put them on Tony’s tab. When he turns back to Bucky, Bucky’s got his lips between his teeth, looking dejected.

“You here with your friends?” Bucky asks, and Steve nods sadly; suddenly, he doesn’t want to go anywhere. He wants to stay with Bucky; his friends would want this for him too, wouldn’t they?

Maybe he can bring the drinks and come back. Maybe he can invite Bucky to his table. They’d love him.

“Wanna join us?” Steve blurts, and bites down on his tongue immediately afterwards. Bucky’s eyes are wide, as if he’s shocked by the invite, and runs a hand behind his neck, hesitating.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Steve replies, and hopes Bucky can’t hear the begging tone in his voice. “You’re here alone, right? There’s enough room for eight at our table, so there’s a seat for you. Come join us,” Steve is now clearly begging. “Please?”

Bucky hesitates, looking over at the table clearly filled with A-List celebrities, likely knowing that’s where Steve came from.

“No one’s come up to us,” Steve continues, trying to convince him some more. “I guess people from LA are used to seeing so many celebrities all the time that they don’t come up to them anymore.”

Bucky chuckles, turning back to look at Steve. “You’re makin’ it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s definitely not,” Steve replies. “But I love meeting fans. I just also like being able to go out with friends and not get called out by anyone for once.” Steve pauses, nodding his head over to his table. “So, what do you say?”

_Say yes. Please say yes._

“I’d love to,” Bucky grimaces. “But I can’t… I’m heading home soon, anyways. I have to call _Complex Media_ pretty early tomorrow morning, so I have to hit the sack real soon.”

Steve tries not to show the disappointment in his face, but he doesn’t think he does a great job. “Okay, that’s… that’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, and he actually does look upset, so that’s at least one upside; had he had more time, maybe he would’ve come.

“No worries, I understand. Uh…” Steve pauses, the lightbulb on his head illuminating. This time, he’s not fucking it up. “Give me a sec, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

He grabs the tray holding the shots and turns quickly, making a beeline for their table. He barely has the drinks down on their table before he turns around, ignoring the questioning shouts from his friends. He heads back for the bar, Bucky watching him in confusion.

“Wh—”

“Can I have your number?” Steve blurts. Bucky’s face morphs into many emotions, some that Steve can’t decipher, but then he settles for a grin, and Steve’s heart skyrockets.

“Sure,” he says, smile suddenly shy, as he takes the phone Steve’s holding out. He hands it back into Steve’s shaky hands, and Steve is now looking down at Bucky’s number that is now in his phone. _Steve: 1_. _Steve’s Insecurities: 0._

“I have to go,” Bucky stands, throwing a quick arm around Steve’s neck again. Steve almost melts on the spot; Bucky’s hugs are warm and big, and they make Steve’s stomach do backflips and pirouettes. Good god, he’s fully in the deep end.

“Text me?” Bucky grins, before disappearing into the large crowd of dancers. Steve stares at his retreating back until he’s out of sight and can’t help but smile brightly. Even the bartender is cheering him on.

When he returns to the table, he’s bombarded with questions, and simply sets his phone down on the table, letting everyone see Bucky’s number entered in his phone. They’re all excited for him, Thor raising a toast in Steve’s honor, and Steve can’t even feel the tequila burn his throat, because he’s just _so_ giddy, so happy, literally nothing can bring his mood down, because _this_ , this feels like the start of something.

Things just might start falling into place.


	3. the aftermath, not afterparty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is YEAH RIGHT by Joji, it'll make sense later ;))
> 
> Your lovely comments make my day! Thank you so much for reading and keeping up with these two, the MCU fandom is quite dead these days so I'm glad to see some of you are still live!
> 
> Also: note the few tag changes and CHAPTER # UPDATE!! This was originally going to be a one shot, and now it might end up being a 50K+ slowburn fic of these two lovebugs. The ideas came faster than I could control, I can't help it.
> 
> Enjoy the new chapter!!

Steve’s mood can’t be ruined, even with the current pounding headache he’s suffering from.

He hadn’t expected to drink as much as he did, the excitement of another press day done and a certain someone’s number in his phone controlling the amount of drinks he had ingested. He was never one to try to keep up with his friends, considering they could always handle their liquor better than he could, but he’s not sure what happened the night before. He had clearly been trying to keep up.

He shares his suite with Sam, who’s clearly suffering a worse hangover than he is, considering the hurling he can hear echoing from the bathroom. With a chuckle, Steve sits up in his bed, grabbing at his pounding head.

“You okay in there, Sam?” he asks. Another hurl is the only reply Steve needed.

With a sigh, he slowly removes himself from his bed, heading towards the windows to pull open the blinds, and okay, _wow_ , what a horrible fucking idea, it is _bright_ out.

He leaps over the bed to reach for his glasses sitting by the side of his bed, quickly pulling them on to adjust his eyes to the horrors that are the Sun’s rays, not realizing that he had taken his contacts out and was practically blind. He doesn’t even remember taking them out… Good God.

Thinking about it, he didn’t remember much of the night before. He remembers heading to the bar, having a few drinks, talking to Bucky, getting more drinks, and then it becomes quite a blur of more drinks, a bit of dancing, likely some hurling in the bathroom, and a sloppy walk back to the hotel. It’s all just a damn blur, and Steve can’t even bring himself to care. The paparazzi probably caught the whole damn thing; he’ll get to read about himself there.

He heads to the kitchen, running the coffee maker to pour both him and Sam some coffee. Clearly, he needed it, and Sam, who literally had interviews in the afternoon with Natasha, was suffering more than he was. The last thing he or Sam needed was for him to show up hungover to talk about a movie for hours.

“Is that for me?” Sam grins when he steps out of the bathroom, and Steve blinks twice because the dude looks _fine_ , what the _fuck_ , as if he wasn’t bent over a toilet a few minutes prior.

“What the fuck?” he voices out loud, causing Sam to raise a single eyebrow.

“So it’s not for me?”

“Are you not sick?”

Sam laughs, shrugging a single shoulder as he reaches for his coffee mug. “You know black don’t crack, man. _Ooh, sweet coffee_. Thank you, Lord.”

“First of all, it’s ‘thank you, Steve’. I made this coffee for you. Me. Second of all, your ethnic benefits of not aging a day have nothing to do with whether or not you look like you’re hungover, sound like you’re hungover, or _act_ like you’re hungover. I could hear you in the bathroom.”

“Your ears are playing you, man. You sure it’s not hearing aids you need?” Sam says with a grin, quickly retreating to the bedroom when Steve’s arm reaches out to smack him upside the head. Sam was the biggest menace to Steve’s entire being and Steve didn’t know how he survived with him this long.

He follows Sam back to the bedroom, albeit begrudgingly, ignoring the loud TV Sam had just turned on. Ironically, a trailer for their movie was on display, making Sam automatically switch channels. You get sick of seeing your own face, after a while.

As much as Steve would rather take the day to fully relax than attend press, he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. Most of his castmates have press on that day, but good ol’ Cap was given the day off, considering the fact that he would have a lot of press leading up to the premiere.

He could… maybe reach out to Bucky.

The thing with Bucky is that it’s almost a can of worms Steve is scared to open, which makes him something of a coward, considering he’s the one that practically begged for Bucky’s number, and he’d feel like a complete idiot if he didn’t do anything with it and let Bucky slip through his fingers. The problem, yeah, is that if you look through the timeline, it isn’t a great one. Say Steve texted Bucky, and Bucky answered, and they hung out, what would happen when Bucky would go back home? Would they just continue on their weird, long-distance friendship? Would it even last, considering they just reconnected? Would they acknowledge each other again? It’s all fears that are genuinely holding Steve back from picking up that damn phone and sending off a text.

Maybe, somehow, he could delay Bucky’s departure. At least until premiere night. That would give them more time to reconnect, more time to build something concrete, so that when Bucky and Steve part ways, their created connection would continue to flame, not die out. Steve _needs_ it to not die out.

“Dude, help me figure out what to wear later today,” Sam says, rummaging over his large luggage. Steve gets up quickly; he doesn’t mind keeping himself occupied, anything to take his mind off of Bucky for the current moments. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it, and he’ll get to that bridge in a few hours. Maybe. Hopefully.

+++

_Keep your eyes open, you idiot_.

Early-morning meetings with _Complex_ are the bane of Bucky’s existence. That’s what comes with the show, and he swears he’s grateful for the show and grateful for what he can achieve with it, but Jesus H., do they have to meet this early in the damn morning? Bucky could still be catching up on some sleep.

“Why couldn’t this meeting happen when we got back to New York?” Dum-Dum asks, the border around his screen lighting up as he speaks. That was another thing; they were doing this meeting on _Zoom_. Freakin’ _Zoom_. Bucky wanted to be back in his bed, peacefully, so why the fuck did the world hate him?

“It couldn’t have waited, because we need confirmation prior to when you guys get back, so we wanted to make this as easy as possible,” Darcy, their boss—which, “boss” is almost exaggerated—replies.

“Easier would be face to face contact, not your microphone cutting off every seconds,” Bucky jokes, to which everyone but Darcy laughs.

“Ha-ha, you’re so funny, Barnes, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Multiple,” he grins, which Darcy ignores.

“Seriously, guys & gal, I have news. They’re good ones. Basically, the exec team discussed your positions within _Complex Media_ and have realized that you boys—and girl—are branching off onto better things, and you’re really bringing in the dough for _Complex_ as a whole. Might we make a suggestion—” she pauses for dramatic effect, bringing Bucky’s nerves up. If there was anything Bucky feared, it was losing control of his show. He was scared that Darcy would change their platform, or remodel their show, or do something that would heavily impact the future of the show. Of course, Bucky loves Darcy and trusts her with his entire life, but he cares about the show so much; it’s his baby. He doesn’t want change; not yet, not when he isn’t prepared for it.

“—A brand new studio.”

Well. That’s not what Bucky expected.

“Hear me out—it’s getting a little bit ridiculous, making you guys move around all the time to interview others, but the studio doesn’t have the room to be able to hold the interviews. We were thinking of buying you guys your own area; it would still be in New York, only a block or two away from Complex HQ, but it would be specifically for _Hot Ones_. You guys can set up there, cook there, edit, anything you need, and then you could permanently hold all of your interviews there.”

The group sat silently, processing everything Darcy was saying, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel excitement bubble up in his stomach. Before that, they were their own independent show, yes, but being located at the Complex headquarters gave the feeling that they still didn’t have full control of what they were doing; he had felt like there was still a lot of control Complex held on their show. By being given their own space. their own area to have the show, produce it, edit it, they could bring everything up a notch; they could change it from something as simple as a YouTube show to something even bigger. They could _become_ something.

Regardless of what happens, Bucky knows that he’s exactly where he wants to be; hosting, talking to others, making them laugh, just being himself. Nothing would change that.

“I think it’s awesome,” Bucky says, finally, completely down for the idea. He gets a few nods from his team, who seem to agree with him. It’s Gabe that poses quite an important question, one that Bucky hadn’t thought about.

“If we decide to settle somewhere,” Gabe starts, “Won’t that decrease the amount of guests that’ll want to come on the show? What if they can’t come to New York? What if they don’t _want_ to pay a ticket just to come eat some wings for a few hours? I wouldn’t blame them, obviously, but that would be kind of shitty, and I don’t want to lose our guests because of this. Is there any way we can guarantee that we’ll still receive just as many guests as we did when we were the ones moving around?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Darcy smirks. “Actually, this has all been pretty much figured out; I know this stresses you out, Gabe, especially that you have a part in the booking process. We want to change the way bookings for the show are made. We plan on opening up a separate website that will only be accessible to celebrities or their agents, and within it there’ll be an interactive calendar, so people can go on and book themselves in, instead of calling. We’ll open up new slots about a month ahead of interviews, that way Bucky has time to do his research prior to the interviews. Of course, if we do this, you’re looking at about one month of inactivity. We have a few prerecorded episodes that could be aired in that month, and then we could end the season there and take another month to let people book the next season.”

“How does that solve the New York problem?” Bucky asks. “What if they don’t want to come all the way here, so they don’t book themselves in?”

“If we’re talking actors, there’s usually always a stop in New York during press tours. If they know they’ll be in New York for press on a certain day, they’ll be likely to book on that day to make sure they get an interview while they’re there. If we’re talking artists, if they’re on tour, they’ll stop by as well when they do their New York shows. Regardless, a lot of people are fans of the show and would come on the show, if it means they can get some exposure. I wouldn’t be concerned about bookings, and if there are any problems, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Darcy hesitates, before continuing. “In the end, it’s up to you guys. If you want to keep travelling, you can. It’s just, budget-wise, not the best thing to handle, but we don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation. Say the word, and we’ll drop the plan.”

The group went silent once again, seemingly processing everything Darcy had told them. If it were up to Bucky, it wouldn’t be up for debate. They’d immediately move, get their own area to start filming, and start the new booking process. It was a risk; the fear that people wouldn’t want to go out to New York for episodes was scary, but it wasn’t scary enough for Bucky to change his mind. Like Darcy said, if anything went wrong, they’d cross that bridge when they’d get to it.

However, he trusted his team, and there was no show without them, so he needed them on the same page too. If they didn’t want to move, they wouldn’t move; simple as that.

“I think it’s brilliant!” Dernier exclaims, making Bucky’s heart leap excitedly. Two down, six to go.

Slowly, as his team started getting accustomed to the idea, more and more of them started to agree to the move. Eventually, they were only left waiting for Gabe’s approval, which is the one that Bucky, personally, needed the most; there was no show without each and every one of his members, and Gabe built this idea with him. If Gabe wasn’t down, they weren’t going to do it.

“I appreciate the offer,” Gabe starts, and Bucky feels his heart immediately sink to his chest; he’s anticipating a _but_ coming on.

“I think when we do this, we’ll owe you a lot, Darcy,” he says, finally, and Bucky can’t help but pump a fist in the air, a cry of excitement leaping out of his throat. He couldn’t help it; this was going to be big for them. This was going to determine whether their show can become more than it already is, or if it’s going to flop while it’s on its way up. Bucky could only hope and pray for the former.

“Ugh, thank God, because we already purchased the lot,” Darcy groaned, earning laughter from the group. “I think this is a good idea, guys, and I think it’s exactly what you’ll need. I’ll be in contact soon for more information, but just getting your approval is a big step.”

“Thanks, Darce,” Bucky says, earning a grin in reply.

“I know I’m the best, you don’t have to remind me.”

The group collectively roll their eyes, laughing quietly before slowly making their exists from the chat. Eventually, the only two people left are Bucky and Darcy, and it seems Darcy completely forgets the topic of the show, as she immediately turns her attention on Bucky’s private life.

“Soooo,” she begins, “a little birdie told me you were a _big_ fan of your guest yesterday.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, hoping that Darcy can’t see the light coloring in his cheeks. “Oh yeah? Which one of those fuckers spilled the beans first, was it Gabe? Dernier?”

“Izzy, actually,” she corrects. Bucky raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth turning upwards. “Oh, _Izzy,”_ he teases, gaining an eye roll in return from Darcy.

“Hey, fuck off, it’s _your_ private life we’re talking about here.”

“Oh is it? She left quite hastily from the chat, may I say, trouble in paradise—”

“ _Fuck. Off._ I’ll hang up on you,” Darcy threatens, making Bucky throw his arms up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, my bad, we’ll discuss your office romance later. Who snitched, about Steve?”

“Nobody snitched,” Darcy lies, like the lying liar she is, a large smirk on her face. “I was told there were some, _fireworks_ , chemistry, kind of deal, but then I also learned that you _know_ Steve, since you guys were boring ol’ adolescents! How about that!”

Considering how close Bucky and Darcy were, if there was anything Bucky hated more than Darcy’s serious, work voice, it was her annoying, teasing voice. She had somehow gotten all the information, and she wasn’t even trying to deny it.

“He’s… a friend. I don’t know. We used to talk, a bit, outside of school, but not much. I was looking out for him, in a way.”

“Yeah, I heard he was tiny when he was younger.”

“Try five-foot-nothing, ninety-pounds soaking wet.”

“Oh Jesus,” Darcy exclaims, laughter bubbling in her chest. “He’s had quite the growth spurt.”

“That, he has had,” Bucky sighs, a brief image of Steve’s straining arms in his shirt flickering in his memory, before he hastily gets rid of it. _Not the time_.

“So? You don’t have any more hosting for the next two months, you’re a free bird, what the hell are you going to do? There’s no way you’re still leaving tomorrow.”

“I am,” Bucky groans, rubbing at his eyes. “I already got my ticket.”

“Are you kidding me? Cancel it, rebook for a week from now. Steve’s staying, and you two have some catching up to do.”

“You don’t know what we have to do.” Bucky doesn’t mean to snap at her, but his fears and his frustrations are building up, and he’s projecting them onto the wrong person. He wants to apologize, but Darcy is staring back at him, a knowing grin on her face, which stops him in his tracks.

“Fear only holds you back, Bucky Barnes,” she states. “I don’t know what happened between you and Steve nor am I going to pretend I do, there’s definitely much more than I or anybody knows, except you and Steve, but from what I’ve heard, and how you’re acting, there’s a lot more than meets the eye. Something tells me you two have a lot unresolved history.”

Bucky sighs once more, running a shaky hand through his hair. “It’s the fear of the future that scares me. If I contact him, and he wants to hang, and somehow we catch up and he convinces me to stay, then what? There’s still the fact that he’s in Boston and I’m in NY.”

“Oh for the love of _God_ , James,” Darcy groans, and Bucky can’t help but cringe at the sound of his name. His coworkers only ever use that name when they’re absolutely and completely exasperated with something he did. “Boston and New York are less than four hours away; you could go and come back within the same day. Relax, and don’t think so far ahead. Just worry about what’s going on right now.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You better,” Darcy replies, lifting a firm finger. Bucky throws his arms up in surrender. “No promises, but I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Darcy says, finally, before ending the call. Bucky shuts his laptop, standing up to crash on his bed almost immediately, throwing his blankets over his head. He was exhausted, was woken up way too damn early, and needed another few hours of sleep. He was going to be responsible later, right now he just wanted a goddamn _nap_.

+++

The evening is slowly approaching, the Sun beginning its descent onto the horizon, and Steve has yet to text Bucky. Then again, Bucky has yet to text him too.

All of his costars are gone, so he doesn’t really have anyone to panic to, which he’s kind of grateful for; he’s starting to believe Sam, as supportive as he always is, would rather rip his ears out than listen to the mess that is Steve’s life.

To text or not to text; it was such a simple thing. It wasn’t even that damn hard, considering Steve _wanted_ to text him. He just didn’t know what to say. Does he start a conversation? Does he invite him out to dinner? No, that might be too risky, they’ll definitely have paparazzi on their ass. Does he invite Bucky to his hotel? _No_. The paps would definitely spin that into a story, and the goal is _not_ to push Bucky away this early. He literally just got him back. He needs somewhere secluded, somewhere that won’t attract many people or a lot of photographers.

He has an idea; it may be the cheesiest thing he’s ever done, but it might be the kind of privacy that him and Bucky need.

Hesitantly, he clicks to the contact Bucky added the night before, pressing on the message button. He types something out, quickly, not even giving himself time to reread it before sending it. If he gives himself time to reread it, he’s going to chicken out.

**_steve:_ ** _Hey Bucky, hope I’m not bothering you or interrupting you with anything. How’s it going? I was thinking considering it’s your last day here, we should link up again and catch up. I have a place in mind, which is away from the paparazzi and away from the hustle and bustle that is LA, haha. If you’re not available it’s totally okay but let me know._

He rereads it after pressing send, immediately cringing. It sounds so _dodgy_ , so awkward. Bucky’s going to delete that text and never speak to him again, he can see that manifesting itself in the universe and he’s expecting the worst, at this point.

He distracts himself by scrolling through the Netflix catalog, looking at all the previews but not actually playing anything. Five minutes go by, no answer.

He checks his phone again, to see if maybe he has Do Not Disturb on. He doesn’t. _Cool._

Another ten minutes go by, and he almost considers sending through another text, when the phone vibrates in his hand, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest.

**_bucky:_ ** _hey! lol other than another Netflix tv show I’m bingeing, you’re not interrupting much. yeah, im totally down to hang!_

Steve’s alone in his room, so he lets himself grin freely, punching the air victoriously.

**_steve:_ ** _cool! cool, okay, give me like an hour, is there somewhere I can pick you up?_

**_bucky:_ ** _yeah, I have an Airbnb on **** Washington Blvd, ready when u are_

**_steve:_ ** _Awesome. See you later!!_

**_bucky:_ ** _see you_ _J_

Steve hurriedly jumps up from his bed, his driver already on the phone. He’s going to need some errands, and a _heavily_ tinted vehicle, ASAP.

+++

The wait for Steve to arrive to Bucky’s doesn’t take long; in fact, even though he gave an hour heads up, it only took him about thirty minutes before he was pulling up in a large, dark van, all windows fully tinted, Bucky couldn’t even see him inside. The only reason Bucky knew it was him was because Steve sent him a text.

Bucky was nervous, to say the least; his palms were starting to sweat, and he could feel his heart race, but he was also extremely excited. Steve had done what he had been afraid to do.

Steve didn’t tell him where they were going, so he simply stuffed a few snacks that he had purchased in a bag, along with a hoodie in case they were going to be outside. He slowly made his way out, making sure to lock the door behind him properly before heading towards the vehicle. It unlocked as soon as he approached the passenger side, and he grinned as he swung the door open, meeting Steve’s lovely, gentle smile.

“Hey Buck,” Steve says as he enters, and Bucky can already feel his cheeks reddening at the nickname.

“Hey, Stevie,” he replies, throwing the bag over his shoulder to put it by his feet. “You’re early.”

“I guess I run errands very fast,” he laughs, prompting Bucky to turn around, curious to see what Steve had purchased, but Steve immediately lunged, covering Bucky’s eyes with his hand.

“You can’t look,” Steve says, sheepishness leaking from his voice. “It’s part of the surprise.”

“So, this is a surprise?” Bucky smirks, grabbing Steve’s hand and slowly lowering it.

“Something like that,” Steve shrugs. Bucky bites his lip, throwing a quick look at the rearview mirror, but he can’t see much. With a sigh, he gives up, letting go of Steve’s hands to throw his own up in surrender.

“Fair, fair, I’ll wait,” Bucky replies, and Steve grins triumphantly. “Good.”

The drive only takes a little under thirty minutes. Bucky’s surprised that the ride isn’t awkward, faint music coming from the speakers playing lightly in the background, as they loosely catch up. Bucky can’t help but ask Steve once again how his mouth feels, and Steve shoves jokingly at his shoulder as a reply, ignoring the loud cackle that comes out of Bucky.

Bucky asks about the car, surprised that Steve didn’t ask a driver to drive them to their destination and come pick them up when they’re done. Steve’s very cryptic, but apparently the car is part of the night, so he rented it. Bucky doesn’t push for anything more.

They talk briefly about Bucky’s family; his sister, Becca, who’s only a few years younger than Bucky, is somewhere in Florida with a husband and a child, in the dentistry field. Steve graduated before Becca arrived in high school, so they never officially met, but Steve remembered her from the few times she was at the school for an event or to accompany his parents when they picked him up. Speaking of, his parents were also doing okay; they still lived in their childhood house in New York, but they were currently spending six months in Romania, where their parents were from, including where they met.

Bucky asks about Steve’s family; he knows Steve only has a mother, his father having died when he was a kid, and he remembers Sarah becoming sick as Steve approached graduation, but he hadn’t gotten any other information after Steve started going to university.

“Less about me, more about you… how’s your mom?”

Bucky almost doesn’t notice the way Steve’s hand clenches around the steering wheel, or how he squirms uncomfortably, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. Without even having to ask, he already knows he fucked up.

“Oh, Steve,” he says after a beat, regret in his voice. He reaches for the hand that Steve has on the console, and Steve squeezes it right back.

“It was a few years after graduation,” Steve sighs. “A cerebrovascular accident.”

“A stroke,” Bucky mumbles, understandingly. “Steve, I…” He wants to say he’s sorry, but he knows that’s not what Steve wants to hear; Sarah’s death isn’t anyone’s fault.

“I didn’t know her well, but she must’ve been an amazing woman. She raised a great son, that’s what I know.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but Bucky can see many emotions pass through his face. Instead, he squeezes tighter on Bucky’s hand, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards.

“She was the best,” Steve finishes.

They don’t bring it up again, and they don’t say anything for the rest of the drive to their destination, but Bucky’s hand doesn’t move from Steve’s. Steve’s hand is in no rush to let go either.

+++

“Here we are,” Steve says, as they arrive at their location.

“We’re at a lookout point,” Bucky says. Steve nods.

“We are.”

“Okay. So… why’d you park backwards?”

“Close your eyes,” Steve grins, as Bucky finally lets go of Steve’s hand to place both hands over his eyes. Steve quickly gets out of the car, cutting around the corner to open the trunk, which was facing the gorgeous lookout point, before coming around to open Bucky’s door. He maneuvers him over to the trunk, before taking a few steps back and spreading his arms wide. Looking at it, it seems a bit cheesy, and might seem a little __date- _ish_ , which is kind of scaring Steve considering this isn’t officially a date, but it _could_ be a date, but screw it. Hopefully Bucky just thinks it’s nice.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

Bucky blinks one eye open, before opening both. He gasps, lightly, his eyes switching between the trunk and the Sun setting by the horizon, leaving gorgeous orange, red and purple hues around the city of angels.

The trunk in question is fully decked out; there are the thick blankets and pillows Steve ripped off his bed on the floor of the trunk (getting that out of the hotel unnoticed was not an easy feat), he bought an assortment of snacks from the store, and he had his computer and a speaker there as well, if they decided to watch a movie. The light inside the car was on, as well as a few string lights in a jar that he found at the dollar store.

In hindsight, this might be just about the cheesiest thing he’s ever done, and seeing Bucky looking at it makes him want to almost tear it all apart, because this is _literally a date_ , and what if Bucky’s upset, what if he thinks it’s too much, too fast, what if he wants to leave? Maybe he should’ve just told Bucky what he was doing. Maybe they should’ve agreed on a plan together.

Except, all his worrying is for naught, because Bucky grins, slowly approaching the car, running his hand across the thick blanket. “You did all this?”

“Is it too much?” Steve asks, almost immediately.

“No, it’s… I love it. It’s perfect.” He turns back to Steve, a huge smile on his face. “No paps, no people, just peace and quiet, it’s… wow.”

Steve grins, walking over to the trunk. “I was kind of hesitant to do this, but I’m glad I did.”

“I’m also glad you did,” Bucky comments, kicking off his shoes before getting in the car, leaning back against the pillows. Steve joins him, dragging the snacks and the computer towards them.

“You want to watch something?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, _Captain America: The First Avenger_ ,” Bucky grins, immediately earning a glare from Steve. Bucky laughs, a loud laugh that causes the laugh lines at the corner of his eyes to appear, his mouth open wide, a large smile on his face. Steve can’t tear his eyes away from the man.

“I’m kidding, Steve,” Bucky laughs. He clears his throat, before continuing. “No, it’s fine, just put some music or something, and then we can just chat.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, heading on Spotify to put on his usual playlist. With the music on, Steve reaches for the fruit plate, placing it between him and Bucky, handing him a toothpick. Bucky thanks him, reaching for the toothpick before immediately digging in.

“So,” Bucky starts, once they’re fully settled in, a piece of melon stuffed in his mouth. “How’d you find this place?”

Steve shrugs. “On my last tour here, I remember getting ridiculously overwhelmed, especially since it was a big movie, so I was quite nervous, and needed to get out somewhere for a while. I drove around aimlessly until I fell upon this place, and ever since I’ve been coming every time I’ve come to LA.”

“I don’t blame you,” Bucky sighs, looking out onto the city of LA, watching as the lights started to illuminate the streets as the Sun slowly disappeared. “It’s beautiful out here.”

They mostly snack on their food in a comfortable silence, just content listening to Joji coming out of the speakers as the sky dances with pink and orange hues. Steve thinks back to the moment where he almost didn’t text Bucky, letting Bucky go back to New York without reconnecting with him properly, and he could slap himself in the face. What a _huge_ mistake he almost committed.

He asks Bucky about how he came up with the _Hot Ones_ show, which actually turns out to be a pretty funny story, despite Bucky asking Steve to promise not to laugh. Steve just couldn’t help it; the fact that Bucky got his inspiration from mukbangs was one of the funniest things he had ever heard. Lucky for Bucky, that worked in his favour. Steve thinks that it wouldn’t have been successful had it been anybody else.

They discuss their high school days, reminiscing on how crazy their school used to be. It’s weird to talk about those days, considering the fact that they both remember events similarly, almost exactly the same, and yet they couldn’t have been further from friends at the time. Bucky seems to think their lack of friendship at the time was just unfortunate events, but Steve won’t ever be able to think that the clear difference in their social statuses kept them apart all those years.

“Do you ever think,” Bucky starts, pausing mid-sentence. “Do you ever think that if we were given a second chance at high school, we would’ve been closer friends than we were?”

A second chance? Steve doesn’t know. If a second chance meant Steve would return to his 90-pound, short self, he doesn’t know if it would’ve made much of a difference. Steve would’ve always felt that anxiety about his looks and how he was treated by some that he probably wouldn’t have ever had the confidence to open up to Bucky without being wary of an ulterior motive. In the end, that was the issue, wasn’t it? The friendship he could’ve had with Bucky all those years ago could’ve happened if he would’ve just let himself have something. If he wouldn’t have let his negative thoughts cloud his judgement, maybe he would’ve understood that Bucky had been trying his best to be his friend, not just protect him and keep an eye on him.

Not wanting to lie to Bucky, he doesn’t. “Honestly, no.” When Bucky’s face visibly drops, he hurries to continue. “I mean, that sounds horrible. It wouldn’t be your fault. I just…” He sighs, turning his gaze away from Bucky. “I know I’d push you away. I was dealing with a lot, when I was younger, a lot of insecurities, and fear, even though I looked like I wasn’t. I just don’t think I would ever recognize your actions as anything other than pity.”

“They weren’t pity, Steve,” Bucky replies. “As weird as it seems, I did care about you. I don’t know what it was, just this… invisible pull towards you.”

The revelation makes Steve turn towards Bucky, his mouth slightly open, and while Bucky won’t look back at him, he can see the red lightly staining his cheeks. Bucky sighs, before continuing. “Kinda sucks, huh? We could’ve definitely developed a better friendship a long time ago. Lost a lot of time, I’d say.”

Lost time. _Lost time…_

They had lost time. All those high school years, Bucky trailing after Steve every day, making sure he got home okay, talking endlessly just to fill the silence. They _had_ wasted a lot of time; had Steve let himself bring his walls down to someone new, him and Bucky could’ve been closer much earlier than they were. Steve wasn’t even sure if he could say they were close now; their reconnection was only a matter of both of them being at the right place at the right time, but he couldn’t help but feel like this was meant to happen. Why else, after all these years, would they find each other, if not to fix the mistakes they made in their past?

Steve had him, now. All those feelings of insecurity, his hesitation of opening up to Bucky out of fear, not knowing Bucky’s motive, it was all gone, now. It wasn’t a fear, anymore, the only fear that remained was the fear that Bucky going back to New York and Steve returning to Boston after their short time together would bring them back to the state they were in prior to meeting again at that interview: knowing each other, but that being pretty much it. Steve couldn’t let that happen. Not for himself, in the moment, but for little Steve, for shy Steve, that wished for this moment, that regretted moments like these for years after leaving high school.

Young Steve told himself that Bucky would make it exactly where he needed to be; he manifested it. Young Steve wanted to be an actor, and he’s here, he’s successful. A single path diverging into two distinct ones, not necessarily meant to meet again, but under odd circumstances, the two paths join once more.

Will the paths diverge once more? Will they split off, with no chance of coming back together? If Steve lets Bucky go now, with an empty promise to keep in touch, who’s to know that would work out? Just setting up their interview had taken months. What would happen if they indefinitely returned home, with a simple “stay in touch” parting message? What happens to these moments, to the moments over a sticky bar, two hands wrapped around condensed glass, a light haze due to the influence of alcohol? To shaky hands reaching for a phone, hesitant to send a text, but knowing the changes it could lead to? To grins being shared over the light hum of the car engine, or silent breaths mixing with the sound of _YEAH RIGHT_ blaring from the speakers, colors dancing in the sky? Those moments, what were they worth if they’re left forgotten?

Not again. Steve wasn’t letting it happen again. He may have let Bucky slip just barely through his fingertips before, but this time, _this time_ , he wasn’t going to let that happen.

The “don’t go back to New York” slips out before Steve can catch it in his mouth, to form a better sentence that wasn’t laced with desperation and dread, but Bucky’s already looking back at him, eyes wide and shocked, and Steve can’t take any of them back. He can just push forward.

“What?”

“Don’t… Don’t go back to New York. Not yet.”

Bucky shakes his head, a thin line forming between his eyebrows, and Steve wants to wipe that look off his face, wants the lines to move to the corner of his eyes, wants to see Bucky’s teeth as he grins. He wants anything _but_ the look Bucky’s giving him in that moment.

“Steve, I… My flight’s tomorrow.”

“Cancel it. Delay it, whatever. At least a week. The premiere’s next week. Wednesday. Stay until then, and then you can get your flight back to New York.”

Bucky shakes his head, his frown becoming more defined as he takes in what Steve’s saying. “I can’t just—my place. I only have it reserved for a certain amount of time, the owners come back tomorrow.”

“I’ll get you a room at my hotel,” Steve quips. “Please, I can… I can help out.”

“I’m not a charity case, Steve,” Bucky laughs, though it comes out quite bitter, and Steve almost wants to backtrack, doesn’t want to upset Bucky any further, but he keeps pushing. He _has_ to keep pushing.

“I know you’re not,” Steve continues. “I’m not saying you are. I just… if you stayed, it would be because of me, and I would owe you. It wouldn’t be fair to make you pay for a hotel you weren’t planning on having.”

“Steve, I don’t know…”

“Listen,” he interrupts, placing a hesitant hand on Bucky’s knee. Bucky’s eyes don’t drop to his hand, so he leaves it there. “You were there for me, in high school. You didn’t have to, but you were, and you cared about me the way only a handful of people did, and I never… I never thanked you for it. I never expressed how much it meant to me, and yet that entire time, I never talked to you, never made conversation, never showed you how much I actually appreciated what you were doing for me. And now, if you, if you leave, I’ll…” Steve doesn’t know why he’s starting to get emotional, heat filling his face and the painful lump in his throat coming in full swing, but he pushes on, ignoring the strong emotions rising in his chest. “I just _feel_ like this happened for a reason. You know? Us, reuniting again. You said it yourself, we lost a lot of time. Time that cannot be made up in one night. We need more time, Bucky.”

Bucky is looking back at him, and other than his wide eyes, his face isn’t giving anything away. Steve, at this point, can feel his heart pounding out of his chest, but he ignores it. He just needs an answer. If Bucky says no, he’ll understand. Bucky doesn’t _owe_ him anything; he’s a friend, they met up because they conveniently had to both be in LA together, but Bucky doesn’t _have_ to stay. The interview was all he came for, and he could leave, as scheduled, the next day.

That didn’t mean Steve _wanted_ him to.

“Steve, I…”

“You asked me, given a second chance, if we would’ve been closer. We can’t go back in time, but we can better our future. _This_ , it’s our second chance, it’s _my_ second chance. I owe it to myself, but I also owe it to you. We need more time. _Please_.”

He’s sounding desperate, at this point, but he doesn’t care. He needs Bucky to understand how much he wants this, how much he wants to explore his friendship, and maybe, eventually, _more_ , with Bucky.

Bucky isn’t looking at him when he answers, and when he opens his mouth, Steve’s stomach automatically drops, his anxiety skyrocketing to an unmeasurable level. It’s why he doesn’t process Bucky’s answer, and it’s why Bucky has to place a hand on his arm, shaking him out of his stupor.

“Steve,” Bucky exclaims, a grin slowly sliding on his face. “I said yes, dummy.”

_He said yes?_

“You said yes,” he breathes, relief filling his entire body, his hands moving to grab both of Bucky’s. “Yes, you’re staying. Yes?”

“I’ll stay until next week. On one condition,” Bucky says.

“Anything, I’ll do anything.”

“Two conditions, actually,” Bucky smirks. “One, I’ll pay my _own_ hotel room, thank you. Second of all, you’re getting me tickets to the premiere.”

Steve scoffs. “Tickets? You’re coming as my date.”

Bucky’s cheeks start to redden once more, the color travelling down his neck, but he has the biggest grin on his face, and he doesn’t even seem to care. “Your date, huh? I like the sound of that.”

Steve grins, dropping Bucky’s hands to throw his arms around Bucky’s waist, dropping his head onto his shoulder. Bucky doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the hug, his arms tightening around Steve’s back and neck. Steve breathes deeply, letting his body and mind remember the smell, the feeling, the comfort, of Bucky’s hug, of Bucky’s touch. He doesn’t want to let go anytime soon.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to. They have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Kudos/Comments mean the world <3
> 
> I have twitter: @cptnsldrs come talk about sebastian stan and stevebucky with me!!!
> 
> \- siggy


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